


I'm (Not) Sorry

by helens78



Category: due South
Genre: Community: kink_bingo, Dom/sub, Facials, Fluff, Humiliation, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-25
Updated: 2010-02-25
Packaged: 2017-10-07 13:17:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/65512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/helens78/pseuds/helens78
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are only a few things that Fraser isn't allowed to say during one of these scenes.  Saying one of those things three times is not how it's supposed to go.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'm (Not) Sorry

**Author's Note:**

> Warning for physical and verbal humiliation, perhaps, but this is genuinely happyfunkink, and fluff, and romance, and thoroughly consensual. (Please be amused with me that my _least angsty dS fic to date_ is the one that fills in "humiliation (in private)" on my kink_bingo card!)
> 
> More detailed notes at the end of the fic.

"Okay," Ray says, throwing himself into the armchair. He kicks one leg over the side of it, and his hand drops between his legs, resting lightly over his cock. When he's settled, he raises his eyebrows at Fraser. "You waiting for an engraved invitation or what, boy? C'mon. Get naked."

Fraser's breath stutters as he exhales. He nods and looks down at the floor, and as always, the first thing to go is the lanyard. He puts it down carefully on the coffee table--this part was negotiated well in advance of their first time trying this; respect for the uniform was not something Fraser could bend on, even for one of these scenes.

He puts his hand on the Sam Browne, and Ray clucks his tongue. "No, no, c'mon, now. You know better than that." Fraser hesitates, but Ray insists. "Eyes _up_, boy. Right here." In his peripheral vision, Fraser can see the way Ray's hand comes up off his crotch, and he forces himself to follow the motion. Ray points two fingers at his own eyes, then points those fingers at Fraser's, and Fraser exhales harshly as he locks in, looking at Ray--looking _only_ at Ray. "Better. Now hurry up. I ain't getting any younger."

It's harder to move now that his eyes are on Ray's. He knows how to remove the uniform without looking, of course; it isn't as though he actually cranes his head to see the clasp on his belt every time he removes the Sam Browne. He fumbles, though, fingers feeling frozen and clumsy, and when he gets the entire belt off, he knocks his knuckles into the coffee table trying to set it aside. His eyes break contact with Ray's in order to check its position, and he's sure Ray will reprimand him for that, but when he looks back up, Ray's just waiting.

Ray's hand has gone back to his cock, and it's rubbing now, slowly sliding back and forth over the length of it. Fraser licks his lips, and Ray lifts an eyebrow.

"You want something? Because I don't hear any begging."

"Ray, I--"

"And the last I checked you weren't bare-assed, either. You want to get come on the uniform? Because I got no problem with that."

Fraser flushes and shakes his head minutely. He unbuttons the tunic, not too fast--Ray will complain if it's too fast--and slides it off his shoulders, draping it carefully over the coffee table as well.

Then it's the braces, which, thank God, no longer make Ray snicker--there's this sort of scene, which is ultimately play, and then there was genuine ridicule, which Fraser did not handle well--but once that's done, the boots have to come off before the trousers can go, and so Fraser steps forward and lifts his foot, resting it lightly on the armchair between Ray's legs.

Ray slides out of his slouch and strokes both hands up the leather, all the way to Fraser's calf, and Fraser wonders, again, if purchasing a spare set of boots just for the bedroom would be profane or simply self-indulgent. He imagines he can feel the warmth of Ray's hands through the leather, even though in reality that isn't very likely, and Ray takes his time caressing the boot before helping Fraser with the laces.

By the time they've gotten to the second boot, Fraser's breath and heartbeat are both erratic, and his cock is trapped awkwardly down the leg of his boxers, fabric pressing into him in a most uncomfortable manner. He steps back when both boots are off and slips off his socks, too, though he doesn't actually fold them when he sets them down.

Very well, then, trousers--

"Hey. You're not looking at me. You think I wasn't gonna notice?"

Fraser looks back at Ray, who's got his leg up on the armrest again and is stroking his cock through his jeans with a little more intent now. "C'mon. Night's a-wastin'."

"I'm sorry," Fraser says, and then winces. There are only a few phrases that are off-limits when they do this, but that's one of them.

Fortunately, Ray's in a generous mood tonight. He doesn't ask for much. "Get the trousers off and then drop and give me twenty."

"Yes, sir." Fraser's fast with the trousers, face heated, and as soon as they're folded and set aside, he drops to the floor and does his push-ups, not even bothering to adjust his cock for it. He goes fast, or he starts to, but after four, Ray stretches his legs out and props his feet on Fraser's ass. Fraser ends up dropping halfway to the floor entirely by accident, though he doesn't actually fall. Ray's feet aren't heavy enough to make this difficult, but between the correction itself and the added humiliation of having Ray using him as furniture while he does it, Fraser's face is burning by the time he's done.

"Not too shabby," Ray says. He takes his feet off Fraser and sits up, leaning forward now with his elbows on his knees. "Stay down. No, scratch that--on your knees. Face me. Hands behind your back."

Fraser moves into position, and this time he doesn't need to be told to look Ray in the eyes. The way his cock is trapped between his boxers and his leg really is becoming painful, but he won't move unless Ray lets him.

"You could really stay like this for hours, couldn't you?" Ray murmurs. "Trained for it and everything." He reaches out, though, and wraps his hand gently around the front of Fraser's neck. His thumb traces over Fraser's pulse-point; Fraser doesn't think Ray can feel how rapidly Fraser's heart is beating, but he can't imagine Ray being surprised by it. "Could you stay like this for hours if I was touching you?"

Fraser hopes Ray doesn't expect him to reply. He doesn't think he could speak.

But instead of asking any more questions, or insisting Fraser respond to him, Ray bends forward and kisses him, very gently, on the mouth. Fraser moans and parts his lips, but Ray doesn't take it any further, and Fraser knows better than to push for more right now. Ray sits back, lets Fraser's throat go, and nods to him.

"Finish getting those clothes off."

"Yes, sir." Fraser can't remember when it went from _Ray_ to _sir_ tonight, but he's there now. He stands up and takes off the henley, the undershirt, finally (God, _finally_) the boxers, and stands up straight, practically at attention, cock sticking straight out. His eyes are glued to the wall behind Ray, and he knows that's wrong, but he's _naked_ now--he can't--he needs a moment to--

"Knees," Ray snaps. Fraser folds himself down, carefully; his knees aren't as young as they used to be. From here it's easier; he can look at Ray this time. Ray has an impassive expression on his face, and that's something Ray couldn't always do--they've both come a long way in scenes like these.

"How many times you jacked off since we did this last?" Ray asks. Fraser feels himself flushing again; he'll have to count them, and he needs to think back to the last time they played this way, which was... three weeks and five days ago. November third.

If he were Ray, he'd be tempted to give an estimate: three times for every two days, twenty-six days, thirty-nine times. He's not Ray, though, and the fact that he and Ray have regular sexual relations often makes masturbation unnecessary. But there was Ray's poker night, which was Wednesday the fifth--one--and the Saturday morning Ray slept in--two--and last week he remembers _three_ occasions, which he blames on Ray running out of deodorant, using Fraser's mineral salt rock instead, which meant he smelled more like himself all week long... plus there were the four times in the last twenty-six days that Ray _told_ him to masturbate. He goes through the dates again in his mind, but finally nods; that's all.

"Nine times, sir," Fraser murmurs.

"Nine times! You were a little Mountie horndog this past month, huh?"

Fraser flushes; he can't really deny that.

"Yeah, I remember you whipping it out that morning when I was too tired to fuck you--I remember you licking my armpit when you did it, too, which, let me tell you, that is not easy to sleep through, Fraser."

"I'm sorry, sir," Fraser says--automatic, he can't help himself--and when he realizes what he's done, he drops his head to his chest, mentally chastising himself for the error.

"Yeah, you know what just happened there," Ray says. The urge to apologize again is so strong Fraser has to bite his lower lip against it; he wants to apologize for apologizing _so badly_. "So I'm gonna give you a choice. You can, A., stand in the corner with your shoulders pushed up tight against the wall for ten minutes, while I take a breather. You can, B., sit on my lap while I have a porno on the TV, and I will make absolutely sure you are watching every second of it right up until I'm ready to fuck you. Or you can, C., bend yourself over the back of the couch, and I give you twenty licks with my belt."

The flush is creeping all the way into Fraser's chest now. He can barely think straight with those choices laid out in front of him. None of them would be easy. Ray always seems to know what would challenge Fraser, which is why these scenes work so well for both of them. Fraser would assume it's a matter of intensive research, of paying close attention to Fraser's reactions at all times, but Ray would probably say it's just instinct, that he does everything on instinct, and this is no different--

"You're stalling, boy. Pick one right now, or I'm picking for you."

"The belt," Fraser says immediately. "Please. I'd like the belt, sir."

"Okay." Ray bends forward again, and this time he reaches around behind Fraser's head, sinks his fingers into Fraser's hair. It takes a very tight grip to actually catch him and hold him that way, but Ray isn't afraid to grip that hard, and Fraser moans out loud when he does.

Ray pulls Fraser's head back until Fraser's looking at the ceiling. He bends his head down to the top of Fraser's chest and licks up, up, over the center of Fraser's throat, up and over his chin, up to his lips, and he licks over Fraser's lower lip and then his upper lip before pressing his mouth against Fraser's and kissing him hard and deep. Fraser moans again, into Ray's mouth, and Ray's smiling as he pulls away--Fraser can feel it before he sees it. It makes Fraser smile, too.

But the smile doesn't last long. Ray lets Fraser go and nods toward the couch. "Go on. Get."

As Fraser goes over to the couch, bends himself over the back of it, Ray unfastens his belt buckle and slides his belt slowly out of the loops. He doubles it up in his hand and smacks it against his thigh, leather snapping against itself with a loud _crack_, and Fraser swallows hard. Twenty. Twenty is going to feel like a lot.

Ray comes around behind him and draws his hand down the curve of Fraser's backside. "No tricks, Fraser. None of that stoic Mountie I-can-get-trampled-by-a-moose-and-I'm-not-gonna-yell stuff. You get me?"

"I get you, Ray," Fraser murmurs. Back to _Fraser_ and _Ray_ for this. If Ray's instincts are suggesting that Fraser needs a closer connection than _boy_ and _sir_ right now, they're absolutely right. Fraser leans back into Ray's touch for as long as Ray's willing to give it, but when Ray finally pulls away, Fraser braces himself.

Ray starts easy, for all that the leather cracking against Fraser's skin is loud in the room. The sound is almost more shocking than the pain, and Fraser forces himself not to hold his breath, not to bite his lip, to stay as relaxed as he can while Ray keeps going.

"Okay?" Ray asks softly, drawing his hand down Fraser's ass again. "You with me?"

"Yes, Ray," Fraser murmurs. "May I--am I allowed to ask for more?"

"You want to? Or you just looking to get it over with?"

"I don't..." Fraser takes a slow breath and thinks about that. "I'm not in a hurry," he says softly. "But I _would_ like to ask for more, if you'd let me."

"Oh, God. Oh, Jesus, yeah. Ask for it." Ray's voice is thick with lust now, as if he were only waiting for Fraser's signal to engage with this particular act completely. "C'mon, Fraser. Ask."

"Please, Ray... another?"

Ray brings the belt down against Fraser's ass again. Fraser's more ready for it than he was for the first time, and having gotten permission to ask for more, he's hungrier for it than he was after the first blow, too. "Again?"

"That's it." Ray gives him another blow, a little harder now. And that's all right; Fraser can handle it harder.

"Ray, _again_, please--"

"You gonna ask for every single one of 'em?"

"I..." Fraser firms up his stance and nods. "Yes, Ray, if you'd like that."

"No halfsies, Fraser. I'm gonna have you begging by the time we get to twenty."

_Oh, please, yes._ "Yes, Ray," Fraser murmurs.

"Okay. Gimme a count, then. How many you got so far?"

Even Ray can't have lost count at two, but of course that isn't the point. "Two, sir," Fraser says. He hears Ray suck in a breath behind him; now that this is settled, now that Fraser's head is where they both want it to be, it's easy enough to go back to 'sir'. "May I please have another stroke, sir?"

"You're goddamn _right_ you get another," Ray growls, and the heat in his voice takes Fraser's breath away--and then the heat from his belt is whipping across Fraser's ass, tight and shocking.

Fraser groans out loud and pushes his hips back. "Sir! Please--"

"How many, boy?"

"Three, sir, please, sir--"

"You want four?"

"Yes, sir! Please, sir, please give me number four--"

He does, just a little harder. They're getting to the place where these blows will all feel good, where Fraser can settle into them; it's mental, not physical, and Fraser knows it, which is why he speaks up again: he has to meet Ray halfway in this, has to be as present as Ray is. "Four, sir! Please, may I have another?"

And again, a sting against Fraser's asscheeks, the jolt of it going right to Fraser's cock now. "Five, sir! May I have another?"

"No 'please'?"

"Please, sir, God, _yes, please_, please--"

Ray was right: he gets Fraser begging by twenty, begging until he's hoarse and he's saying things he wouldn't have believed he could say. _Please hurt me, sir, please give me your belt, sir, eighteen, sir, oh God thank you, sir, please please please another please yes please thank you--_

And when twenty's over and the punishment's done (this was punishment, Fraser remembers hazily, such a good punishment, so much better than copying lines or standing in the corner), Ray drops his belt to the ground and pushes right up against Fraser, the rough scratch of denim against Fraser's reddened skin enough to make Fraser cry out. But it's Ray's cock that really has Fraser's attention, Ray's cock hot and hard against Fraser's ass, the outline of it so easy to feel through his jeans, so easy to imagine pushing into him--"please," Fraser whispers, "please, please, please--"

"Say it," Ray says steadily--how is his voice so steady? Fraser can _feel_ how much this is affecting him. "C'mon, now. Say it. Out loud. In words of four letters."

_Oh, God, I can't._ He licks his lips. Four letters. Oh, he knows what Ray wants, he knows the word Ray's looking for, but... but... "Take," Fraser gets out.

"Nuh-uh. That's the letter but it ain't the spirit," Ray says, hand moving up to catch Fraser's hair again. "You know what I want to hear."

"_Your_," Fraser tries. It should be 'yours', but four letters--'your' is four letters, 'yours' is five.

And both are wrong. Ray gives Fraser's head a little shake. "You wanna disappoint me? That it? You owe me _two_ four-letter words, _slut_, and you're gonna give 'em to me. And you know it. Try again."

_Disappoint--no, no, no..._ "Slut," Fraser whispers--it's the 'gimme', as Ray would call it, the one Ray threw at him, but his throat constricts and the heat, God help him, the heat all over his face and his neck and his chest is going to kill him. He can't--_can't_\-- "_Begs_," Fraser forces out.

"Yes, he does," Ray says, implacable, and he lets Fraser's hair go and backs away a step. Fraser whimpers--he can't feel Ray's body now, can't feel his cock or his thighs or anything else, and Ray puts his hands down on either side of Fraser's hips, so he can't feel Ray's hands, either. "And you better beg better than that in a hurry, boy, unless you have a real urge _not_ to get fucked."

"Ray--Ray--" He _will_, damn it, he _will_, just--this is so _difficult_, and he can't... he can't...

Ray backs off completely, but this time he grabs Fraser by the arm and spins him around. He pushes up into Fraser's space, hands tight on Fraser's biceps, and he puts himself nose-to-nose with Fraser, and he looks right into Fraser's eyes. "Say it with me," he murmurs. "Fuck..."

"Fuck," Fraser whispers, barely louder than a breath.

"Fuck me."

"Fuck me," Fraser breathes out; it shouldn't be easier, eye-to-eye with Ray, but it is. "Fuck me," he says again, and this time it comes out stronger.

"Halfway there. Now c'mon. Fuck--"

"_Fuck_," Fraser says, with enthusiasm; he's gotten started now, the floodgates are opened, and he just needs instructions. Orders to follow. "Fuck--"

"--my slut's--"

"--your slut's," Fraser says, almost stuttering over it, but not quite. Not quite. "Fuck--_fuck_ your slut's--"

Ray grins at him. "Tight little Mountie ass," he finishes.

"Oh, _Ray_\--"

"Fuck your slut's tight little ass," Ray says quickly. "Say it for me. Fuck your slut's tight little ass..."

"Fuck--" He has to start over again, because no, really, _tight little Mountie ass_ was just a bit much, but-- "Fuck your slut's tight ass," he finishes; he is not, objectively speaking, a _little_ man, and his ass is of similiar proportions, and--

"Again."

"Fuck your slut's tight ass," Fraser repeats, and he grins at Ray, eyes narrowing a little. He sweeps his tongue out over his lips. "_Please_ fuck your slut's tight ass. Sir."

"Bend the fuck over," Ray growls, pushing at Fraser, shoving until Fraser's turned around and bent over the back of the couch again, and this time Fraser spreads his legs wide.

Ray has supplies in his pockets, for which Fraser is very grateful; he hears Ray unzipping his jeans, can almost smell it when Ray opens the condom with its slight trace of lubricant, and then Ray's popping open one of those one-use lube capsules and sliding his slick fingers into (_your slut's tight ass_) Fraser's ass. Fraser moans, pressing his hips against the couch, trying to get just a little friction against his cock. Ray gives his fingers a sharp, shocking twist, which is a _don't do that_ signal if Fraser's ever felt one.

"Did I say you were gonna get to rub yourself off? Huh?" Ray's fingers are almost merciless as they drive in and then _crook_, looking for Fraser's prostate and finding it. Fraser yells out loud, bucking back against Ray's hand. "Did I say you were gonna get to come?"

"No, sir, no, sir, _please, oh God_," Fraser pants, twisting now, squirming--if Ray wants him not to come, he'll have to _stop doing that_.

Ray eases up, thankfully, and draws his fingers back. "You know how this works," he says. "You know you don't get to come unless you got permission, and you know you _sure_ as hell don't get to rub yourself off like a dog humping on somebody's leg."

"No, Ray, I'm sorry--"

Ray stops. _Everything_ stops. Fraser hangs his head; the word "fuck" drops rather naturally off his lips this time. "Ray--"

"Okay," Ray murmurs. "Okay, come on back. Come here."

Ray pulls Fraser back to the armchair, helps Fraser down on his knees. Fraser still can't look at him, can't face him, can't--how did he fuck that up _again_, for God's sake, _three times_ tonight--

"Look up," Ray says quietly. "Look up, Fraser. Look at me."

It takes him a few seconds, but he does it. Ray's sitting at the edge of the armchair, cock still hard, still sheathed in latex. Ray doesn't look angry with him.

"Ray--"

"Shh. It just means we do something different, is all. Get your mouth open."

Fraser blinks at that, but obeys, settling back with his mouth open and his tongue resting on his lower lip. Ray strips the condom off his cock and tosses it aside, and starts stroking himself. Fraser has to lick his lips, has to swallow--oh, God, Ray's cock looks so _good_, smells good, even, and it's nearly close enough to taste.

He won't, though. Not until he's told. He is _not_ going to make another error tonight.

"Bend your head down, buddy," Ray says, but he doesn't wait for Fraser to do it. He grabs Fraser by the hair and holds on, tightly so Fraser can only move as far as Ray lets him.

And it isn't far enough. His mouth is close to Ray's cock, but not on it. He licks his lips again, and Ray actually chuckles at him--but it's the good kind of laugh, the aroused sort, nothing that makes Fraser feel like curling into himself and asking for a time-out.

"You look hungry," Ray says. His hand is moving quickly now, strokes coming faster and faster, and Fraser decides to be a little daring. He sticks his tongue out, tries to touch Ray's cock with just the tip.

Ray keeps him back, holds on so Fraser can't quite reach. He's close--he is _very_ close, so close he can't help but keep trying. He licks out, further and further, trying so hard, struggling against Ray's grip--

And then Ray gasps, and when the first streaks hit Fraser's face, he's startled--he _should_ flinch, he _should_ try to get away, but instead he just opens his mouth as wide as he can, lays his tongue over his chin to catch as much of Ray's come as possible. Ray grunts and gasps and keeps stroking, until the last few sticky jets fall over his fingers instead of on Fraser's face, and his grip on Fraser's hair finally eases. Fraser moans and licks his chin, licks his upper lip--everywhere he can reach. _Ray._ He tastes like Ray now, smells like Ray. He groans again, shuddering.

"Holy shit, Fraser," Ray pants. He falls back against the armchair and rests his head against it. "Holy _fuck_."

"Yes, Ray," Fraser says; his voice is so hoarse he can feel the growl in the back of his throat. Ray tilts his head forward and gives Fraser a fuzzy grin at that.

"Okay," Ray says. He gestures, a little 'come-here' motion with his fingers. "Okay, you been a good enough boy. Up on my lap--no, wait, wait--" He pulls his shirt off over his head and then sits back again. "Okay, now. Up on me."

It's a tight fit in this armchair, but they've certainly done it before, so Fraser doesn't hesitate. He climbs up on Ray's lap and settles down on Ray's thighs, avoiding Ray's cock for now--Ray is usually fairly sensitive after he comes.

"Nuh-uh, up a little." Ray reaches down between Fraser's legs, and Fraser lifts up a little. It'll put a burn in his thighs if he has to stay like this too long; he raises an eyebrow at Ray. "Use your arms to hold yourself up. It's okay."

With his arms supporting him on the armrests, this is much easier, and as Ray slides his fingers back into Fraser's ass, Fraser tilts his head back and moans, feeling as shameless as he's ever felt. His face is still sticky with Ray's come, he's on Ray's lap, and Ray's fingers are inside him. There is really no room for shame in this armchair, he thinks, and he squirms against Ray's fingers as Ray starts searching for that spot again, the angle a bit more awkward than usual.

"Three times," Ray mumbles. "I swear I'm gonna fuck it out of you one of these days--you know that, right?"

"Yes, Ray," Fraser gasps. "Yes. Yes. Yes--"

"But I know how hot you are for it, and I bet--" He finds Fraser's prostate, and Fraser's head falls back again, Fraser moaning helplessly in Ray's lap. "I bet if I touch you just right, you can come even if I don't touch you."

"Oh, God, Ray..." He wants that. He wants it so much he can taste it, taste the need for it alongside Ray's come all over his lips. "I... I'll try, Ray..."

"Nah, 'cause the thing is--" And Ray does wrap his other hand around Fraser's cock, and the heat makes Fraser cry out even louder. "The thing is, I do that, I can't _aim_," and Fraser's too pleasure-shocked to know what in God's name Ray could possibly be talking about.

But when Ray growls out, "_Come_, dammit," Fraser lets everything else go, sinking into pleasure and sensation and that place where there's nothing else _but_ this, nothing but the warmth of Ray's touch and the knowledge that Ray is satisfied with him and the fact that he can, oh _God_, finally, _finally_\--

He goes over shouting, calling out Ray's name, and when Ray's grip changes, when Ray angles Fraser's cock down just a little, Fraser gets his eyes open just enough to see. He sees his come spattered on Ray's chest, sees the brightness of Ray's eyes as he watches Fraser coming for him, and Fraser damned near _sobs_ with the pleasure of it by the time he's through--he's taking in air like he's been drowning. He feels like maybe he has been, excess lung capacity be damned.

Ray slips his fingers free of Fraser's ass, lets Fraser's cock go, and sticky and messy as they are, he leans forward and wraps his arms around Fraser, hugging him as hard as he can. Fraser hugs back, leaning against Ray and taking all the support Ray's got to offer.

"Yeah," Ray whispers, pulling Fraser back with him as he slides back down into the armchair. "Oh, yeah..."

"Yes, Ray," Fraser murmurs. He's clinging now, but he knows Ray doesn't mind. "Yes."

_-end-_

**Author's Note:**

> Contains all of the following and possibly other things I am presently forgetting:
> 
> Verbal humiliation, facials, teasing, physical humiliation (using one partner as furniture), pain play (belt), and punishment (Fraser gets punished for saying "I'm sorry"). With all that said, the boys are clearly very happy in this story; it is not fraught or angsty. It is romantic fluffy kink!


End file.
